Bad News
by Claire D'Aubigne
Summary: Soiree gives Alba bad news. Pre-Maximum Impact 2/2006. No spoilers, no pairings.


**Disclaimer: Not my sandbox.**

Alba knew there was something wrong when he came home from work at 2am and he could see the dim glow from a lamp inside his small apartment. Warily, he let himself in the front door (still locked, so it couldn't be a thief), to find his brother dozing on his sofa.

It was the same sofa that Fate had purchased when the twins had first moved in with him, so it wasn't like Soiree wasn't used to sleeping on it. Alba was sure it wasn't as comfortable as it had been when Soiree was fourteen, though. And it didn't bother him at all that his brother was there—he'd tried to give the spare key to Soiree when he moved out, but Soiree had said that having it seemed a little like Alba wasn't living on his own, and he wouldn't take it.

Apparently, though, he'd remembered where Alba had hidden it.

"Soiree?"

His brother was a heavier sleeper than he was, but at Alba's voice, he jerked awake immediately. "Alba."

"What's the matter?"

Soiree sat up, looking depressed. "It's Fate... Alba, he's dead."

Dumbfounded, Alba sank onto the battered sofa beside his brother. "What happened?"

"I'm not sure." Soiree shook his head. "There was a cop, and he came by to tell me this afternoon... somebody murdered him, and I know you were at work, but I figured you should know, and..."

_And Soiree didn't want to be in that apartment alone,_ Alba finished to himself. His brother didn't have to say it for him to understand what Soiree meant. And he didn't blame him; he'd feel the same way. But who would want to murder Fate? He was a good person, and he didn't deserve something like this.

"Do you mind if I stick around tonight?" Soiree asked, even though he didn't really have to.

Alba shook his head. "You can stay as long as you want to, you know that. There's only one bed, though."

Soiree shrugged. "You're my brother; it's not like we didn't share a womb." And they'd slept together until they were eight or nine or so. "What are we gonna do, Alba?"

Alba hated how his little brother sounded so lost and hopeless. They owed so much to Fate—and suddenly, Alba felt guilty. He should have been there. If he hadn't moved out, he could have helped, doing whatever it was that Fate wanted him to do... hadn't he said once that he hoped Alba would learn about running the city—the 'family business,' he'd said jokingly.

If he'd stayed to learn like Fate had wanted, maybe he wouldn't have gotten into whatever trouble made him get killed. If he'd stayed to learn like Fate had asked, he could have been there when Soiree found out, instead of Soiree having to take that news all by himself. And it sucked. It could have been prevented.

Soiree's hand on his shoulder made him look up. He didn't know exactly when Soiree had last hugged him—it had been a long time ago—but Alba didn't feel so stupid doing that now. He could tell Soiree needed the comfort, and it was the least he could do after all this. He should have been there.

"He wouldn't have wanted you there," Soiree said, responding to Alba's thoughts like he'd spoken aloud. "It wasn't like you never came to visit, or like you didn't help out when he wanted you to. You're blaming yourself, and I don't like it, so just stop."

Soiree pulled away, and Alba's arms fell to his sides. "He wouldn't tell me what he was doing, either. I don't think that would have been different if you'd stayed there," his brother continued, probably thinking it made him feel a little less guilty—but it didn't.

"Do you have to work tomorrow?" Soiree asked. Alba shook his head—even if he did, he wouldn't go. He wouldn't leave Soiree alone like this.

* * *

It was a restless night for both boys; when one fell asleep the other was generally awake, and sharing a bed now wasn't as easy as it had been when they were littler. By mutual agreement, then, they were awake and waiting for Alba's coffeepot to start working so they could at least have that.

"I guess there's nobody besides us left to handle the funeral arrangements," Soiree said dully. "I don't really know what I'm doing, so I guess that means you'll have to do most of it."

Alba nodded. He hadn't thought of that. There was enough coffee now for them to have a cup each, so he poured some and fixed both cups, not having to ask how Soiree wanted his.

"Do you remember when we were younger, and you told Fate that twins were bad luck?" Soiree asked suddenly, wrapping his hands around the cup. "You told him that in some cultures, people killed twins to keep them from haunting the village, and he said-"

"-that he didn't believe in luck, and we hadn't made the plane crash on the way over, but if the Earth opened up and swallowed him for no reason then he'd know who to blame," Alba finished with a little smile, remembering the way Fate had tried to put them at ease. "You're not trying to tell me he was buried alive, are you?"

Soiree shook his head. "Just wondering if you remembered, that's all."

Alba got the message. For Soiree's sake, he wouldn't mention the plans he'd made last night for revenge.


End file.
